


Predictions

by Royal_Ermine



Series: Stark Tower [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst with a Happy Ending, British English, British Stucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, Kid Fic, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Ermine/pseuds/Royal_Ermine
Summary: Steve Rogers, a petty-minded, workaholic introvert, labours in the bowels of the accountancy department in the London office of Stark Tower. Can his traumatised and painfully shy new assistant redeem him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arxiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arxiver/gifts).



“I simply don’t know what you’re complaining about, Steve. We found you a new assistant, didn’t we?”

Steve was aware that Thor Odinson was his boss. He was only too aware. He could have applied for that job himself if he’d really wanted it, only he didn’t feel old enough for the position in his mid-twenties, But that didn’t give the Norwegian any right to impose another member of staff on him without his consent.

“Yes, but I don’t know who this person is. I wasn’t even on the interview panel. I know absolutely nothing about them, and now you’re expecting me to trust them with the department’s data, and line-manage them?” Steve may only have been five feet nothing in his concealed heels with all the muscularity of a sturdy sparrow, a comparison accentuated by Thor’s tremendous frame and popping biceps, but he could also be incredibly fierce and protective of his interests when he wanted to be.

Thor held up his hands in a mock defence “I realise that, Steve. If it’s any consolation to you, I was on the interview panel myself and to be honest there really wasn’t a great selection of candidates to choose from on the day. We did the best we could”

“So you’re telling me that the candidate you picked isn’t even very good?”

Thor sighed and took a seat on the couch in Steve’s diminutive office. Steve deliberately flouted convention by not following suit. He wanted to use this sudden height advantage to full effect.

“Well?” he demanded petulantly

“On paper, the successful candidate is well qualified, a little over-qualified in fact. He’s also very deferential and his references show he’s an extremely hard worker”

Steve didn’t bat an eyelid, although Thor’s choice of pronoun wasn’t exactly expected given that all his previous assistants had been women. 

“So, what’s the problem then?”

“Well…” Thor made a face “It’s just that he was so quiet and shy during the interview that he struck me as being a bit of a push over, and you have a very…erm…how shall I put this?... “assertive” personality, Steve. I’m somewhat concerned that you’ll simply scare him off”

Steve narrowed his eyes “I can be intimidating when I have to be, Thor. But I can be kind and pleasant too, when the occasion presents itself”

“I mustn’t have ever chosen the right occasion then” muttered Thor, only half-joking

Finally, Steve joined Thor on the couch. “Look. I promise I’ll cut the kid a bit of slack okay?”

“Good” Thor replied, immediately standing up “Because I’d hate to see the firm having to pay damages for staff bullying claims”

Steve bit his tongue and lunged for a stress ball, as his boss blithely strolled out the room.

-*-

The next day, Steve tried his best to tidy up the office and make it presentable for his new assistant. He was just a bit delayed by some new paperwork from head office that morning, that’s all. He’d managed to clean up the worst of the coffee cup stains around the workstations when an apologetic little cough made him turn around.

“Mr Rogers?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, your new assistant”

Steve had fully expected some skinny acne-riddled teenager going on Thor’s description, so he was totally unprepared for the stunningly handsome young man standing before him in his office doorway. James was broad-shouldered, muscular and possessed of the most kissable lips Steve thought he’d ever seen, framed by lustrous chin-length floppy brown hair in a centre parting, a style Steve had a particular fondness for. He couldn’t help blushing and was greatly relieved to realise that James hadn’t actually noticed. In fact he was barely looking up at all. Thor had been right about one thing, James appeared unspeakably shy.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, James. You may call me Steve.” Steve considered the official welcoming handshake, but wasn’t at all convinced that James would look up sufficiently to even notice the gesture. Instead he said “Why don’t you come inside and take a seat?”

“Thank you”

James’s voice was deep and rich, in spite of him speaking in little more than a whisper. Steve couldn’t help but notice how he rounded his shoulders and drew his knees together on the sofa as he sat down, as if deliberately trying to look small and inconspicuous; no easy task for such a well-proportioned man. 

James glanced up shyly, offering Steve a slim file “I brought the proofs of identification and qualifications that the firm asked for”

Steve nodded and accepted the file as he took a seat on the easy chair opposite. He made a cursory glance through the paperwork: all the usual things, birth certificate, passport, driving licence and his accountancy qualifications. Steve was surprised to note that James was slightly older than himself, as he acted and sounded far younger, but he was truly impressed to note that James had passed his accountancy degree at a prestigious university with first class honours. 

“These are really good marks, James. You must be very proud of how you did with your examinations”

James attempted a watery smile of such dilution that it was apparent he didn’t feel the same way in terms of his qualifications, and perhaps in terms of anything else about himself, for that matter.

Steve frowned. Although accountancy was hardly the profession of choice for the extrovert, he would nevertheless have to speak with James to a certain extent, and his new assistant seemed clearly uncomfortable with even the barest minimum of this. It might yet prove possible to work with him of course, but his first task, the induction, was - by its nature - perhaps the most interactive portion of the whole day. The next few hours wasn’t going to be easy, for either of them.

Steve swallowed hard and launched himself into an explanation of the actuarial function, predicting client risk and longevity within Stark Corporation’s pension and insurance division based within London’s Stark Tower. James nodded in all the right places and, Steve was gratified to see, even took a few notes on the little jotter he produced from his jacket pocket. He’d hardly expected James to ask any questions, even when invited to do so, but he did make a brief observation, to clarify what he had just heard, which at least demonstrated he was paying Steve his full attention. 

It was customary for Steve to slip a brief accountancy test into the induction process itself. Nothing explicit, of course, but - by calling up a spread sheet with some basic errors on it - he was able to be certain both of competence and diligence. This was particularly important when staff had been assigned to him which he hadn’t directly appointed, as in this case. James looked perplexed at the spread sheet and, when he’d been granted permission to make observations, pointed out every single deliberate mistake, including one that Steve had inadvertently made which wasn’t even part of the test. Steve gave a warm smile of approval to James, who - true to form - bashfully looked away. 

Steve offered to make James a cup of tea during their break. It gave him the opportunity to calmly think things through. Thor could be insufferable at times, and it irritated him to have to trust his assurance that the interview candidates were of a generally poor quality, but he’d made a creditable choice. In terms of sheer intelligence and attentiveness, he couldn’t wish for a better assistant than James. Thor had already pointed out his misgivings about the young man’s painfully shy personality, so it wasn’t as if he should have been surprised by this. 

If anything stuck in his craw, it was Thor’s opinionated assumption that Steve would be unable to cope with James’ shyness. To put it in actuarial terms, Thor was making confident predictions about Steve’s personality based on insufficient and biased data. Steve was determined to prove his prediction entirely wrong.

“So”, he began brightly, handing James his tea “I was thinking this afternoon we’d have a chat about how I can help you feel comfortable and develop your career in your new workplace”

James nodded willingly enough, but the expression of his face completely contradicted the movement of his head.

“For example…where do you see yourself in five years’ time?”

James’ eyebrows knit together, as if seriously struggling to consider this question, but a few moments later his head dropped sadly in defeat.

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes it’s difficult looking that far ahead. I mean, we’re actuaries right?” Steve half-chuckled “So we should be good at predicting things, but it’s often hardest predicting things about ourselves. 

Let’s try something else” he persisted “When we have our Christmas party in six months’ time, what might you be feeling about your job and perhaps life generally that’s different to how you’re feeling today?”

Steve had thought up that question on the spur of the moment. He felt really rather proud of himself for that. It was just the kind of question that should stir up vivid images of Christmases past and James was bound to say something, even if it was just the hope that he’d feel more familiar with his job.

“I…don’t like to think too far ahead” ventured James hesitantly, staring at the floor “And I don’t like to think about Christmas”

It suddenly occurred to Steve that his assumption about Christmases could be entirely wrong, if - for example – his new assistant happened to be Jewish. He blanched at the thought that this innocent misinterpretation might have resulted in the infringement some obscure anti-discrimination code buried within the equal opportunities paperwork of the firm

“I’m so sorry” Steve blurted, backpedalling furiously “Christmas means different things to different people. But…erm…the office closes for a few days so you’ll be looking forward to the break at least and spending that “holiday” with your loved ones, yes?”

James raised his head and looked at Steve; really looked at him, as if figuring out whether to trust him. At length he said 

“I’m just starting out again, Steve. I haven’t worked for some time, and I don’t have anyone…but…but I do hope I’ll be doing better by Christmas”

Steve adopted a reassuring smile, but inside he was torn to pieces. Here he was, trying to act like the big important manager in front of this poor young man who clearly had much bigger issues than he could even begin to contemplate. He felt a pang of sympathy from his younger days, as the caregiver for his dear late mother, who’d been through hell with his father’s philandering ways and who had suffered a debilitating mental decline, compounding her own long-standing physical disabilities towards the end of her life. Steve had thought to himself then how minuscule his own worries were compared to hers, and James’ revelation had brought that realisation right back to him.

“That’s okay, James. I’m truly sorry if I asked anything that’s difficult for you. I appreciate you being honest with me about your circumstances and I promise faithfully to keep anything you say entirely confidential” 

James smiled. He knew it was a genuine smile this time because, for a brief but blissful moment, the limpid pools of his gorgeous blue-grey eyes sparkled like there was something magical hidden many fathoms deeper.

“You don’t have to say anything else of course. We’ll move on to another section of the induction, but may I please say that I’d like you to know that you’re safe here, and that I’m going to do my very best to be a kind, helpful and respectful manager for you, James”

“Bucky”

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s the name I was used to being called. Steve, if it’s okay with you, I’d like it if you called me Bucky".


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver

Steve’s struggle with the concept of a nickname was a useful first test of his adaptability. Personally, he never much cared for nicknames, associated as they were with either negative (bullying) or semi-positive (cliquey) connotations. But in the same respect, these were his opinions and, although he was quite sure he could find management texts to support his view, he could probably find an equal number that counselled a more lenient approach to them. 

Then, early the next morning, he stopped for a moment, looked himself up and down in the office bathroom mirror, and realised that he was overanalysing the situation beyond the scope of all reason. If James wanted to be Bucky, then Bucky he would be; and he’d staunchly defend his right to call himself what he wanted if it were ever challenged.

“You’re a little early this morning, Bucky”

Bucky smiled shyly and gave a slight nod of the head. “I prefer to be early for things, so that I’m never late” 

Steve positively beamed. Not only did Bucky appear a kindred spirit in the timekeeping department, but he’d managed to string an entire sentence together, albeit a tad clumsily. This was rapid progress, no doubt aided by Steve’s decision to use his nickname. Steve mentally patted himself on the back for making entirely the right management decision.

“I share your view, Bucky. I’m always here at least an hour before I’m scheduled to start work. When the office is nice and quiet, it’s much easier to think.”

Bucky appeared to consider that for a moment, and then nodded decisively. Undisturbed silence followed, not that this was a concern for either of them. Bucky had a lot of paperwork to read and countersign, and Steve merrily tapped away at a new set of figures that had arrived from head office overnight, due to the transatlantic time difference. 

Steve barely let himself think it, but this experience was pure bliss for him. His previous assistant only occasionally arrived early, but when she did, Steve invariably wished that she hadn’t bothered herself because she could never stop talking. True it was that her topics of conversation generally centred on their office work, but raising queries about random accountancy procedures derailed Steve’s train of thought far worse than any personal matter might have done. From time to time, Steve glanced over to Bucky, just to make sure that their silence wasn’t disturbing to him but, as he had rightly assumed from yesterday’s induction, Bucky seemed to positively relish the peace and quiet.

The next time Steve glanced at the clock icon in the bottom right hand corner of his computer screen, over an hour had passed, and he’d achieved more work than he usually managed in the course of a whole morning. He slipped out of his seat, returning a few minutes later with a couple of cups of tea. Bucky briefly looked up from his work and rewarded Steve with such a beatific smile that his heart skipped a beat. Taken aback for a moment by the strength of that emotion, he didn’t notice Thor’s enormous head abruptly poking around the door.

“Everything okay, gentlemen” Steve immediately detected Thor’s tone of voice, which indicated this was not so much a question as a command. His hackles already raised by Thor’s previous implications about his management abilities; Steve gritted his teeth and adopted a tight thin-lipped smile.

“Yes, we’re fine thank you. Bucky came in early this morning, and we’ve both been very busy. I’ve been able to steal a march on that tricky Weissembaum claim and…”

“Bucky?” queried Thor

“Yes” bristled Steve “That’s what James likes to be called. There isn’t a problem with that, is there?”

“No, no…not at all” came the languid reply. “I just didn’t get the memo that’s all”

“I…I have to send a memo?” spluttered Steve, incredulously

Thor boomed out a resounding Nordic chuckle that prompted both Steve and Bucky to flinch in tandem “Of course not. I’m just teasing you, Steve. You need to take it easy. You’re going to wear out your stress balls again!” He thumped a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder, only the marked contrast between their body types meant that Thor’s enormous span pretty much compressed Steve’s entire frame from the collar bone down to the shoulder blade.

Steve’s brow furrowed. He hated being made a fool of, and even more so in front of his new impressionable assistant. Bucky’s reaction was instant and, if anything, even more startling. He folded back in on himself, his knees, elbows and shoulders retracting in his seat just as they had done the day before. Steve was very cross that his line manager could act with such careless insensitivity to both of them. With the weight of Thor’s hand removed, Steve snapped back to consciousness, but, turning on his heel to challenge him, Steve saw that Thor was already halfway down the corridor borne along by that impossibly wide stride of his. Steve sighed and turned back to Bucky.

Bucky looked thoroughly startled by the episode and his eyes now furiously scanned the carpet tiles. Steve felt a genuine pang of concern in his chest; a pain he had not felt so keenly since the loss of his mother. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky. He’s just…he’s just being…well, he’s just being him, I guess” As he took a seat beside Bucky, it occurred to him that this explanation probably didn’t sound terribly professional, but it was the honest to God truth. Thor simply barnstormed his way through everything and everyone, and he probably didn’t give a crap about the implications.

Bucky didn’t look up, but when he did speak, the tone of his voice was uncharacteristically bitter “You don’t like it when he does that”

“You mean his patronising comments?”

“Yes, but no…I mean, with his hand”

“Well, now that you come to mention it, I don’t much care for that either. It’s unprofessional and intrusive, not to mention…” 

“Does he hurt you?” blurted Bucky “Because you should really tell a grown-up and…” Bucky’s voice drifted off, coming to rest in a muffled dry sob.

“Bucky?” Steve kept his voice low and gentle

“Oh God, what have I said?” he gasped “I’m…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…I don’t know what you must think of me. You probably want me to go now” His voice had now grown dull, lifeless, almost resigned.

Bucky sounded so unguarded, so painfully vulnerable and so very unaware of the effect that pain had on Steve’s aching heart. “The damage to his soul must be very deep”, thought Steve.

“No, Bucky, I don’t want you to go. I just want you to feel better. Something is hurting inside of you, and I don’t like to see you unhappy. But that doesn’t mean I want you to go.”

“But you don’t pay me to…”

“Oh please” interrupted Steve “I know I come across as a bit of a anally retentive boss, and perhaps I am a little bit” he added, with a wry smile “But that doesn’t mean I expect you to be an emotionless number-crunching robot in the office.”

“Sometimes number-crunching is helpful. It means I don’t have to think” Bucky replied, simply

“Bucky, I’d like to ask you a question. You don’t have to answer it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, and I appreciate it means you trusting me, which might be difficult”

Bucky thought for a moment, and then nodded

“Where you’re living right now…is it safe? Do you…do you feel safe?”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s a hostel. Sometimes bad things happen, but not so bad as before”

“Thank you for sharing this confidence with me, Bucky” said Steve, gently reassuring him “The Stark Corporation has a very good support system for its employees. That includes counsellors and temporary accommodation for staff and visitors. I really don’t think I’d be breaking any rules at all just to enquire about what help is available for you, on your behalf. 

Would it be okay if I asked my colleague who works in Human Resources about what we can do to help? She’s lovely and really kind. Nothing we say will spread anywhere in the office or count against you as an employee in any way. I guarantee it.”

Bucky looked scared and so uncertain. Steve recognised that look. Sometimes his late mother had wanted help but didn’t want to accept it either, usually because she didn’t want to impose, even though it was no imposition at all. There were times that politeness and propriety really sucked. This was one of them.

“I wouldn’t want to get into any trouble” Bucky fretted “And I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble either, Steve”

“It would be no trouble for me, Bucky, no trouble at all. I know this colleague really well. She’s a very good and trusted friend. I tell you what? If you give me your permission, I’ll talk to her, but if she can’t help, then I’ll let you know and we can decide what to do then. Now, how does that sound?”

Bucky raised his eyes from the floor and braved a tentative smile. Steve’s heart leapt within him.

“Okay, Steve. I trust you. I really shouldn’t. I barely even know you…but… I trust you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

Natasha Romanov worked for the Moscow office, but had transferred to London on secondment over two years ago. She liked the place so much that she’d taken up semi-permanent residence with the Human Resources department, in a cosy corner office originally occupied by the Russian translator. The translator had gratefully accepted the generous early retirement payment Stark Corporation awarded her once the cost savings of having “Nat” take on both roles were convincingly spelt out to them by a certain actuary in the accountancy department. The bond between the two was pretty much inseparable after that.

“So, how’s my favourite little calculator?”

“Hey less of the calculator, I’ve got feelings too y’know?” Steve huffed, in mock indignation

“I noticed you didn’t contradict the “little” epithet, though?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m short; so sue me”

“Never!” Nat blustered “Besides, you’ve probably calculated how much redundancy payment you’re due, right down to the last penny, and I’m pretty sure we can’t afford it”

“Well, some things are worth more than money” mused Steve

Nat narrowed her eyes “What have you done with the real Steve Rogers?” she giggled in mock interrogation “He’s in there somewhere. Hold on, Steve, we’ll save you!”

“Will you be serious just for a moment?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow

“Okay, okay, if you insist, mister grumpy calculator. I expect you’re way past saving anyway”

“You’re probably right, but I might need your help to save someone else”

“Now I’m intrigued” purred Nat in an Eartha Kitt kind of voice “Do tell?”

“Thor appointed a new assistant for me a week ago. I was a bit sore that he rode roughshod over my right to appoint my own staff member, but he did a good job. This new chap’s very thorough, extremely hardworking, punctual, polite to the point of passivity…”

Nat frowned “I can feel a “but” coming on”

Steve sighed “But…I think he’s having some serious personal problems. It started out with a very odd thing he said the second day he was in the office, and since then he’s confided enough for me to be pretty sure he’s in a dangerous living situation and has suffered some kind of major emotional trauma.” 

“And how would you like me to help?” she asked, as neutrally as possible

“It’s…its really difficult. A part of me says “He’s well within the six month probationary period; we could just let him go and dump the problem”, but another part, a greater part of me sees the qualities in this young man. He’s clearly intelligent, well-mannered, talented and he’s got the kind of work ethic that impresses even me.”

“And I know that’s practically impossible” added Nat, without a shred of irony

“Is there any way we can help him? I don’t want to do anything that would break the firm’s rules of course, but you know what’s available and what’s possible more than I ever could”

“Flattery, Steven Grant Rogers, won’t get you anywhere…but friendship will. It sounds to me like we have a prime candidate for emergency housing relocation here. It’s grade-dependent to a certain extent, so we can’t put your assistant up in the penthouse suite of the Dorchester, but we have some jolly nice single bedroom apartments nearby that are shamelessly under occupied. 

If I selected an apartment with a smaller square footage, we could extend his tenure there to several months, if needed. The firm would pick up the rent and even the gas central heating, since these places need a regular airing to prevent the damp setting him, so he’d only need to pay for electricity, water and of course his usual living expenses.”

“That sounds very generous” said Steve “I don’t want to place any undue influence…”

“Oh honestly, Steve, none of the self-effacement, it doesn’t suit you, dear. If anything you’d be doing me a favour. You know better than I do that some of these smaller apartments are so under-utilised, they’re becoming tax liabilities. Look at it this way, your assistant would actually be saving the company money. Better?”

Steve nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face

“As for the rest, we’ve got an excellent counselling service with access to some other related benefits should they be recommended by our team. However, that kind of benefit only tends to kick in after the first three months of employment. It’s possible for a line manager to sponsor an employee to receive these services earlier by acting as their guarantor. It’s happened before. We’ve got precedent established. 

However, that’s where you need to make a personal decision, Steve. Do you want to personally vouch for your assistant, or not?”

Steve's smile sank “What are my liabilities here, Nat?”

“Well none in terms of the company rulebook. What you’d be doing would be perfectly legal and proper. However, if memory serves, no-one has ever sponsored an individual at the assistant grade before. In one way it’s excellent for the company to be seen to recognise that everyone at every level deserves our care and support. But in another, it does mean that - should this ever be brought up on your file – this would stand out as being an unusual request.”

“And could that be used against me?”

“If your assistant remains a good employee of the firm, then your sponsorship will do you nothing but credit in the eyes of your superiors. However, if he drops out, then yes, potentially it could be used against you in discussions relating to revised pay grades and future promotion opportunities”

Steve sighed

“Look, we’ve been friends for a good while now. You realise I can’t make that decision for you, and I certainly won’t pressure you. But perhaps you ought to think it over in a little more detail before letting me know how you want to proceed, okay?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver

Thinking’s a funny thing. Analytically, Steve was possessed of a first class brain; he clearly personified that human calculator that Nat so enjoyed teasing him about.

But certain thought processes defy analysis.

If Steve wished, he could have created an impressively elaborate chart of actuarial probabilities to estimate the statistical likelihood of his decision to sponsor Bucky burning him professionally. That Friday evening, he actually seriously considered drafting one, before he realised that the result would be entirely meaningless. “If I were advising a client about exposing himself to risk on this one” he thought to himself “The answer would be simple. Any exposure to risk, even if it’s less than a one percent chance, isn’t recommended if it simply isn’t necessary.”

And that was the whole point. It wasn’t necessary. He could keep his professional reputation intact, spotless even, if he were just to go back to work on Monday and tell Bucky that, sadly, there wasn’t anything that his colleague could do because he hadn’t been working for them long enough, but if he waited another two and a half months, he could get the help he needed. 

That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? 

If Bucky couldn’t handle himself and his fragile emotions for that length of time, then that wasn’t Steve’s fault, was it? 

He’d managed before (admittedly with some difficulty) without Steve’s help, so he didn’t need that help right now, did he?

But why were all these statements ending in question marks? They shouldn’t have been. They were clear articulations of fact, as honest and straightforward as 2+2=4.

Only thinking about people isn’t so straightforward. And Steve wasn’t being honest with himself.

Some years back, a fellow student on his accountancy course who had a reputation for dispensing folksy wisdom and who subsequently dropped out to train as a yoga instructor, saw Steve wrestling with a similar human dilemma. It was over a boy in the class whom Steve had an absurdly hopeless crush on, an entirely unattainable handsome muscular lad with silky strawberry blond hair in that very 1990’s centre parting style that he had such a weakness for, but who turned out to be a complete and utter jerk. Anyhow, that wasn’t important, as he made it his business to never disclose confidences with others. The important thing was that this folksy student noticed him looking all torn up about it and said, in a sing-song way that immediately irritated Steve: “Worrying is like taking a ride in a rocking chair. It’s something to occupy yourself with, but it doesn’t actually get you anywhere” 

At the time, her delivery of this line ensured that Steve didn’t get the message, but it occurred to him that his current worries were an object lesson in that particular scrap of wisdom. His first priority was getting out of the rocking chair.

 

Consequently, he turned Saturday into a veritable whirlwind of self-centred activity. Even though it was in pretty good shape before, Steve scrubbed every inch of his minimalist loft apartment until it gleamed like a detergent commercial. He shopped carefully and meticulously for the very choicest produce and the very best bargains.  


He headed home and selected his most colour-coordinated outfit and his finest cologne to treat himself to dinner and a West End show in the evening.

Despite the fact he wasn’t short of money in the bank, he zeroed in on the best deals like a laser-guided miser, finding a table for one and reserve tickets to a show for a criminally low price. The waiting staff didn’t look particularly happy to see him again (they rarely did; he barely tipped), and the man at the box office positively harrumphed, but there he was, in the dress circle for “Fiddler on the Roof”, feeling pretty damn good about himself. 

 

-*-

To ensure he wasn’t denied his cut-price seat, Steve had felt it necessary to arrive impossibly early. The theatre was practically empty, and so it was with a certain surprise that he soon found himself sitting beside a rather dour-looking lady who, it turned out from their polite conversation, turned out to be the arts critic for a national newspaper.

“People rarely give me a second glance” she smiled, modestly, handing him a toffee “So I get to see unadulterated performances. That can really irritate the staff sometimes”

Steve smiled as he chewed. Although she wasn’t referring to his case – irritating the staff by short-changing them – he nonetheless warmed to his dowdy companion.

“Of course”, she continued “Fiddler on the Roof’s been going since the sixties, so yet another version could turn out to be a tiresome re-tread of what’s gone on before. Maybe that’s why ticket prices are so low on this one”

Steve had the good grace to blush. 

“Well, I’ve never seen it before myself” he confessed

“Oh really?” she enquired, genuinely surprised “Well, the setting can be difficult to get your head around the first time you see it, but the story’s a powerful one. I don’t want to spoil it for you…”

“Nonsense” Steve replied, good-naturedly “You’re a critic, naturally I’m interested in your opinion” (“Plus, I get extra insights into the play from an expert, and all for free”, he smiled to himself).

“Okay. Well, here we have a man with three daughters. He wants them to be happy and he wants them to be married; which amounts to the same in the context of the play. For each daughter, he has to make a compromise on the way his community thinks, and his faith would have him behave. The first compromise isn’t too big; the second is all together scarier, but by the third he’s faced with an almost impossible situation. He has to choose between what’s right and what’s going to make his little girl happy, and he chooses to do what’s right. And that’s a terrible decision that he immediately regrets because by making the safe choice he loses someone he loves very much. 

Now that’s a really powerful message whatever your situation, even for today, don’t you think?”

Steve’s throat caught. The critic wasn’t to know it, but she’d stirred something very deep and sobering within him. In his penny-pinching quest, Steve had got far more than he’d ever bargained for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver

Late Sunday morning, Steve found himself standing outside a piece of 1960’s concrete brutalist architecture so unforgiving, it actually made his eyes sore. He pressed the buzzer at the door and was admitted by an unsympathetic-looking warden wearing a badly ironed white shirt and a black polyester clip-on tie stained with what he could only hope was simply last night’s take-away curry. 

The floor he was directed to comprised of one seemingly unending corridor punctuated by identical faux-teak doors. From behind some of them TV sets blared loudly, others emanated far more disturbing cries and shouts from adults and children, and the occasional scream from a baby. The tang of mould spores and stale urine assaulted his nostrils with every step he took on the suspiciously spongy carpet. On more than one occasion that morning, he’d seriously thought about turning around, and making his excuses with the same phone he’d used to say he’d be coming round. Now he thought about it again.

But no, Steve might be many things, not all of them good. But he damn sure wasn’t a quitter. Eventually he managed to match the number on a door against the text message he’d received and tentatively knocked.

The sound of the security chain on the latch indicated to Steve that Bucky didn’t always have such welcome visitors. As did his nervous glance up and down the corridor as he let Steve in. 

The room was…well, what could be said about the room? All the walls were in place. A small cracked window admitted a shaft of bleak light. There was a narrow bed. There was a wardrobe. There was a chair underneath a desk. That was all. Bucky perched on the end of the bed, offering Steve the chair.

What struck Steve, however, was not the starkness of furnishings (the room was barely big enough for more anyway) so much as the paucity of personal possessions. There were no pictures, or photographs, nor any of those other little touches that would have made the room into a home of sorts. 

Bucky didn’t live here. He merely existed.

“When they said you were in a secure hostel, I thought that meant you were being kept safe from others” said Steve “But it feels more like others are being kept safe from you.” He didn’t mean it to sound so bleak, but there was no leeway for a white lie about how “nice” the place was.

“It’s a prison” shrugged Bucky, simply “Or at least it seems like it. I bought two colas from the vending machine downstairs.” He handed a lukewarm can to Steve.

This, then, was Bucky’s sole avenue for hospitality. Steve felt so desperately sad.

“How long has it been now since…”

“Since the boyfriend stopped sending threatening texts?” Bucky anticipated “Over a month now. His last text, aside from the customary brutality, indicated he’d found someone else. Actually I’m inclined to believe him. He’s never been short of admirers. There are plenty of victims like me willing to take another blow from a bully like that.”

“Bucky, please don’t say that. You don’t deserve to be hurt. You are a good person.”

Bucky sighed “I know, I know…logically at least I should be okay, but…I just keep thinking back to what my old man said when he laid into me. About me being a no good queer and how I deserved everything I was getting. That kind of thing doesn’t flush out of your system easily, and I seem to attract boyfriends who think the same…so I get to thinking, maybe he was right after all”

Steve desperately wanted to hug Bucky tight enough to squeeze all those terrible thoughts out of his head, but he instinctively knew that was the last thing he should do.

Instead, he asked, soberly “And what does the counsellor here think?” 

“When I can get to see her - which is rare with the waiting list in this place - she says I’m repeating my own self-loathing by finding dad-replacements. She’s got the bedside manner of a Dalek, but I see where she’s coming from. Again though, that’s logic talking, and I don’t seem to be able to handle logic outside of accountancy examinations and an actuary’s spread sheet” 

Bucky didn’t sound upset, just resigned, as if there was nothing more he could do but endure his way through whatever lifespan had been allocated to him.

Steve was nearly a foot shorter and infinitely less well built, but it was Bucky who looked small, and scared, and so utterly without hope. Steve thought his heart would break at the sight.

Rather than discouraging him, as the accountant side of him would have counselled, this galvanised Steve into action.

“Bucky, I came here today because I wanted you to know I’ve spoken to my colleague as you kindly permitted me to. She’s happy to arrange some better accommodation for you temporarily, until we can find something more permanent.” 

Steve was lying about the permanent part, but he simply couldn’t face telling Bucky that, after several months, he could potentially be asked to leave and end up back in this awful place. Instead, he passed Bucky a brochure containing details of the smallest apartment in the Stark portfolio, still ten times the size of his current accommodation. “It’s pleasantly furnished, and the only things you need to pay for are some of the utilities and of course your food and clothes. Everything else will be taken care of.”

Bucky blinked up at Steve, dumbstruck.

“The counselling services are a little more difficult to access. They require a personal recommendation from your line manager. I’m taking a bit of a risk in doing that, but Bucky, you are SO worth it. I just want you to get the help that you deserve and I’m more than prepared to take the risk to get it for you.”

“But Steve, that’s the whole point. I’m NOT worth it. I’m SO not worth it. I’m just a soft dumb…

“Hey” Steve interrupted, his tone gentle but firm “Cut that out, Bucky…that’s your dad and your ex talking, it’s not you”

“How do you know that?” pleaded Bucky, his voice quavering “You don’t know me…you don’t know me at all.”

“I think I know you better than those two thugs” flashed Steve “But, hell, you know what? I’ll humour them. Tell me why you think you’re not worth it?”

Steve realised immediately that he’d said something terribly risky. He’d done the one thing he never did: he’d engaged his tongue before his brain. Bucky could crack under that kind of pressure. He fully appreciated that. 

But he couldn’t retract it, firstly because the damage had been done, and secondly because – deep down – he really wanted to know what evil shit those two had poured into Bucky’s brain that was making him hate himself so savagely. The first stage to flushing it out was to identify it.

Steve took a deep breath and waited. 

Bucky looked down at a watery stain on his threadbare duvet, not wanting to meet Steve’s eyes. “Well, for a start I look strong but actually I’m pretty weak. I’m like some kind of tiny kitten. I don’t like to hurt people”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. Then, slipping into management mode, he took a sheet of paper and a pen out of his coat pocket and laid them on the desk. “I see” he stated neutrally, scribbling something on the paper. Bucky nodded.

“And then there’s the fact I’m so overly-sensitive and I’m always thinking I’ve said the wrong thing. I cry at practically anything and everything” Bucky was stumbling over his words, trying to get the bad stuff out. Steve said nothing but Bucky could hear the erratic rhythm of Steve’s pen strokes on the surface of the plywood desk.

“Okay what else?”

“Well, I’m such a pussy. I’d love to raise kids and have a family. I’ve no ambition; that’s why I always wanted to be an assistant. When you asked where I wanted to be in five years’ time, I couldn’t exactly tell you I wanted two kids and a happy home, now could I?”

“Right” Steve verified “Anything else?”

Bucky gulped, screwing his eyes tightly. “I’m….I’m a slut”

The scratch of Steve’s pen strokes silenced abruptly

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m a slut, I’m a fucking slut” he repeated, louder this time “Dad used to do it to me. He used to get his friends to do it to me. I must have liked it. Some of my boyfriends did the same, although thankfully not this one. He just smacked me around a lot. I’m not happy unless…unless I’m being forced” Bucky’s tears suddenly flowed out of him uncontrollably. He shifted his body up onto the bed and shrunk into a foetal position, sobbing into the duvet”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look dumbstruck. The dreadful realisation struck him like a thunderbolt. He was getting way out of his depth, but – rather than heading to shore – he struck out and began to swim furiously towards Bucky as he flailed in this sea of despondency.

He waited it out, figuring – rightly – that any kind of physical comfort might be misinterpreted. Once Bucky’s tears subsided, Steve looked down at the paper and back to the trembling figure on the bed.

“Is that everything?”

“Yeah…pretty much” Bucky shuddered

“Well, let’s take a look at the damage here” said Steve, taking up the paper whilst trying to sound casual and in control of himself: “I’m talking to a man who has suffered terrible abuse through no fault of his own, and yet always shows great kindness to others, who is gentle and sensitive, and would like to have a relationship with someone who wants to raise a family with him. 

So I guess, my first question has to be, where do I sign up?”

Bucky smiled weakly through the tears, he even giggled. Deep down, Steve wasn’t entirely joking here, but his mind was far too confused to process everything he’d just heard, and Bucky certainly wasn’t ready. 

“So, if there are no further objections…” continued Steve “When would you like me to help you move into your new home?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

They say that time speeds up when you get older. A month can pass in the blink of an eye. What they really mean is that the older you live, the more you get used to the process of living. You short-hand your way through life and then, when another month passes where nothing exceptional has happened and you’ve not had to make any decisions out of the ordinary, you barely notice the passage of time.

If that’s the case, then every month of fast-forward short-cuts that Steve had lived through suddenly came back to bite him. He lived out an entire month of daily revelations. 

His life suddenly transformed from neat, ordered monochrome drabness to a gloriously dizzying riot of colour. 

At work, everything clicked into place. Bucky was now entirely on the same wavelength when it came to his workload. He practically doubled his output without breaking a sweat. If Thor was impressed, he didn’t show it. But then Steve didn’t expect he would. After all, Steve was too busy proving Thor’s predictions wrong.

Bucky also moved into his apartment. Steve helped him move, but there really wasn’t much to do. Bucky owned two suits, four shirts, a handful of ties and underwear, and a battered old suitcase to pack them in. That was it. At weekends, he and Bucky would go shopping for nice new things for him, catch a movie together and chat animatedly over coffee. 

Steve loved Bucky’s company. He was so sweet and gentle and the sensitivity he so belittled in himself was the most precious gift of all for Steve. He came to realise how much of a pompous self-opinionated prick he could be, obsessing over petty details and pushing people out of the way in pursuit of career goals that meant nothing to this adorable young man, whose idea of success centred on how much love he could give to a boyfriend and to the family of his dreams.

Sometimes they’d talk about how the counselling sessions were going. Bucky didn’t have to share, but he felt so comfortable with Steve that he volunteered a lot of the personal details. And Steve really seemed to get him; to somehow understand what he was going through. Steve’s heart ached to hear Bucky continue to speak of the trauma like he somehow deserved it, but it seemed to do Bucky a lot of good to be able to finally express the nature and extent of the abuse he had suffered. Finally, Steve understood why Bucky owned so few possessions. He had been terrified of associating pictures of himself and personal objects with all the times he had been in pain. 

It occurred to Steve that it would be good to give Bucky some precious new memories that would be worthy of him keeping a few photographs of. He’d looked at his leave roster and, as he had expected, he’d carried over weeks and weeks of leave from previous years, having no reason to take any time off except to attend yet more work or career-based courses, seminars and conferences. He considered the possibility of planning a holiday, nothing too intimidating or exotic of course; perhaps just a nice little cottage in the country, for him and Bucky to share together.

-*-

Towards the end of that month, Nat got back in touch. Eagerly he cleared the diary for a visit to her corner office the next morning, anticipating the treat of yet another round of verbal sparring.

“Well hello stranger” smiled Nat “So good to see you. Come take a seat”

Steve furrowed his brow a little, though he tried to smile through it. Nat hadn’t started out with her trademark calculator insult. It made him distinctly edgy. 

“Okay, what’s the problem?”

“I didn’t say there…”

“Don’t bullshit me, Nat. I know you too well. Something’s wrong. I’m for the high jump aren’t I?”

Nat took a sip of her coffee, clearly thinking of a way to phrase what she was about to say

“Okay, I’ll state this simply. It’s been brought to the attention of Human Resources that you might be having an inappropriate relationship with your new assistant”

Steve’s stomach lurched. 

Nat nodded “Thank you for having the good sense not to try and deny it. That would have made things infinitely worse”

“Look” he sighed “I feel very deeply for Bucky, but nothing physical has taken place. You have my word on it”

“And I believe you” said Nat “The definition of “inappropriate” in this case is rather less specific than that. The firm is providing Bucky with extensive counselling services at present, and on your personal recommendation, as we’re both aware”

Steve bit his lip. It WAS being used against him.

“Now, I haven’t been given the details of those sessions of course. To do so would break all rules of confidentiality and information governance and counts as one of the very few grounds for instant dismissal from the company. 

But what I do know is that any kind of allegation of the slightest impropriety, no matter how innocent or even reciprocated, between a manager and his subordinate, especially if that subordinate could be considered “vulnerable” is…well… let’s just say it’s not something we’d want to see go wrong, Steve. For both your sakes, not just that of the firm”

Steve looked down at his hands “I see that, Nat. And yes, the allegations are correct. I won’t lie about it. I won’t even try and defend it.” 

He looked up, sadly “What have I got to do?”

Nat smiled gently “How long have I known you?”

“Seems like forever, you pain in the Urals”

Nat cackled and broke into a wide smile. 

“You’ve never been like this before Steve, not about anybody. I think you might just be falling in love, mister”

“You’re not my type” quipped Steve

“Oh I know that, more’s the pity. But he is, isn’t he?”

Steve smiled shyly, and nodded, for the first time admitting it to himself as well as to Nat.

“Well, that makes matters simpler at least. I think perhaps we’d better discuss your options, lover boy”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver

It was lunchtime before Steve got back to his department. Bucky was already in the kitchen area perched at a small black metal café-style table and grazing on the salad Steve suggested they could share. Bucky had explained that his last boyfriend had taken so much of his life away that the only thing he felt he could control was his eating, and he had begun to starve himself. Steve couldn’t bear the thought of this self-punishment and tried to gently prompt Bucky to eat regular nutritious meals whenever he could. 

“You okay there, Bucky?”

Bucky gulped the cherry tomato he’d just popped into his mouth so quickly he practically choked on it “Steve! Where’ve you been? I know you said you were had a meeting earlier this morning, but you’ve never been this late before”

“I know. I’m sorry. What I thought was going to be a casual conversation turned into a much longer meeting. But I did send a text to your email to tell you I’d be running late over an hour ago.”

“Haven’t read any emails since ten-thirty” said Bucky concisely, between bites “IT have been upgrading our PCs since then, so I’ve had to work on the print-outs”

“Strange…I didn’t get the memo?”

“Exactly!” grinned Bucky “Apparently we’ve been missing a sizable proportion of our global emails this past week because some of the messaging software didn’t automatically update on our office network like it should have.”

“Oh…that’s not good. That’s not good at all” Steve agreed. “Would you excuse me, please?”

He rushed back to the office in time to see the last of the IT technicians leave. He assured Steve that this was a minor issue that only affected low level global emails and senders to affected departments had been advised to resend any emails backed up in the system that required departmental attention, to ensure that no data had been lost.

Steve heaved out a heavy sigh of relief. He didn’t need anything else to add to his problems that day.

As if on cue, Bucky returned from lunch. “Is everything okay now, Steve?”

“In a manner of speaking” he hesitated. “Would you please sit down? I…I need to have a chat with you”

Steve made a particular point of closing the office door before he joined Bucky on the couch. 

Bucky had every right to look nervous. He didn’t of course. He looked absolutely petrified. Steve didn’t know how he was going to say the things he needed to without upsetting him still further, but he resolved to try.

“Now, erm…Bucky. You and I have been spending a lot of time together lately, and…”

“Don’t tell me we can’t spend time together anymore?” Bucky whimpered 

“You know I wouldn’t do that. But you’ve…” Steve pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to control the rush of thoughts “…you’ve been through a lot of trauma. Me being close to you, well, it might not be so good for you. If I thought I was taking advantage of you when you’re feeling vulnerable, well…it wouldn’t just be difficult for the firm; I’d never be able to forgive myself personally”

“But we haven’t done anything, Steve. You haven’t so much as held my hand. I haven’t even given you a pet name”

“That’s not the point. You’re having counselling now and…” Steve pulled himself up from the management script “…what? A pet name?”

“Yeah” Bucky blushed, brushing the floppy hair out of his eyes sheepishly “I only give pet names to people I really love”

“So, is Bucky a pet name?”

Bucky smiled wistfully “My mum gave it to me. She was the only person I’ve ever truly trusted to love” Steve cast his mind back to his own mother for a poignant moment, “And I really wanted to give you one”

“But you just said you only…OH!” Realisation finally dawned on Steve

Well, as Nat had said, this made matters simpler at least.

“Bucky. You’ve just said something truly momentous there; and pivotal to what we do next. Are you absolutely certain that…”

“That I love you, Stevie?” he grinned “Yes, yes I do. I really do. You’re the only man I’ve ever know who has NOT taken advantage of me; who treats me with absolute respect and propriety, and you’ve taken a chance on me, even if it means taking risks with your own life and career.” Bucky gulped “Is it…is it really bad, Stevie? Are we going to get in trouble?”

“No, you’re not going to get in any trouble” Steve assured, unable to disguise the dopey grin on his face from hearing Bucky’s choice of pet name for him, “I’m your line manager, the responsibility is entirely mine. 

I’ve worked at Stark Corporation for quite some time now. I’ve been proud to work here. It’s a terrific place. If I could shake the great man by the hand, believe me I would, but…” his face fell, “…well… that’s not likely to ever happen now. This situation will doubtless leave a permanent black mark on my file.”

“Oh Stevie” Bucky wailed, tears welling in his eyes “What have I done to you?”

Very gently, Steve placed a reassuring hand on Bucky’s arm. “Shhhhh…you’ve done nothing wrong. I told you that before. And, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve done nothing wrong either. I’ve potentially broken the rules of the workplace, and I’ll humbly accept the consequences, but I’d do the same thing a hundred times to hear you say that you love me...” he swallowed, summoning up the courage to continue “…because I feel the same way about you.”

“Y…you do?”

“I surely do. I’d never even admitted it to myself until today, but I feel very deeply for you Bucky. I’ve cherished this time we’ve had together. I want to love and honour and protect you. But I can’t do that from this office. It’s simply not an appropriate relationship between a line manager and an employee”

“So, what’s going to happen to us?”

“That’s your choice. All these choices are ultimately yours. My colleague in Human Resources has looked at possible internal transfers and there’s a lovely position just come available next to the research and development centre on the top floor under nice Dr Erskine, the librarian. You’d be doing very similar kinds of work to what we do now, only with a new line manager and in a different department” 

Bucky’s anguished expression stabbed Steve right in the heart. But he resolved to continue 

“He’s really a very sweet old man, exceedingly kind and lots of fun. He wears a different coloured bow-tie every day” 

“That does sound nice…but why can’t I work with you anymore?” he pleaded

“Because it’s not professional for two people who love each other to work together in such close proximity. What would happen if we had a fight at home and then took it into the office? How bad would that look?”

“Oh…” Bucky sighed, before abruptly picking up on Steve’s implication “At home?”

Steve blushed deep “Sorry, I was kind of jumping to conclusions there”

“No more than I was, calling you Stevie” confessed Bucky, a sly shy smile turning up the corner of that sweet kissable mouth

Steve badly needed to sober up, but doing so wasn’t too difficult given the circumstances. 

“Besides” he added “There may be no-one working under me, or over me, or with me in any kind of capacity for very much longer. I’ll probably be under serious investigation for my actions”

“Damn right you will” came a voice from the door

Once again, Thor’s gigantic head poked into the office. Clearly he’d disregarded the closed door policy.

Steve and Bucky scrambled embarrassed to their feet. “That door was shut for a reason, Thor. How long have you been listening in?” Steve challenged

“Long enough to know that my little plan worked” came the overly smug reply

“What “little plan”?”

Thor sauntered into the office, looking very full of himself “Why, the plan to get rid of you, you supercilious little scumbag”

Bucky furrowed his brow “I don’t understand” 

“No, well, you wouldn’t” Thor replied dismissively “You’re as thick as reindeer shit, but I’d have expected a nit-picking, anal retentive perfectionist like Steve Rogers to have worked it all out by now. It seems I overestimated him.”

“Now, wait just a damn minute. How dare you speak to Buc…”

“Oh how sweet” grinned Thor sarcastically “Defending your crackpot boyfriend. Well he’s not the only one with rape-related mental health issues, IS he Steve?”

Steve’s eyes widened with horror 

“Yeah, I read your report, Rogers” Thor growled “How long did your old man plough YOUR skinny arse for, huh?”

“That’s…that’s CONFIDENTIAL” screamed Steve

“Yeah, yeah, go tell it to the shrink. Actually, don’t bother yourself, you already did…it’s all down in the notes.” He looked Steve up and down with an air of utter contempt. 

“A desperate perfectionist burying the sordid past from his beaten up mummy and getting all cut up about how much more he could have helped her before she died”, Thor snorted

“That’s why you’re such a great caregiver, Steve. And that’s why, when you saw this poor little broken-winged bird over here, you simply had to dash off like some weedy superhero and rescue him. You just couldn’t help yourself!”

“I’m not broken” said Bucky, simply “I’m getting better. Stevie helps me get better” Steve’s heart swelled within him. Rather than collapsing at the revelation, Bucky was standing up for himself; standing up for both of them.

“Is there no end to you two’s sappiness? Get a room” spat Thor “Better still, get a padded cell”

“That’s rich, coming from a psychopath” muttered Steve

“Rogers, I’m so wounded by that remark” mocked Thor “But then I’m not the obsessive underling out of control and soon to be out of a job.  
Of course, you’re right; I had to give you a nudge in the direction I needed you to go by predicting you’d not be able to manage your new assistant. That must really have rankled your workaholic anal retentive streak. And now we all know what you’ve been retaining in that tight anus of yours, you disgusting homo whore.” he leered. “But anyway, it proves that my prediction was right all along. You just couldn’t handle the boy. Look where it’s got you?”

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“You know what, Thor? You’re dead wrong.”

“Come again?”

“I said you’re wrong. I can handle Bucky. I can handle him by giving him my love. That’s more valuable than the results from any set of accountancy figures. My actuarial tables predict everything except the secrets of the human heart. I’ve been an insufferable perfectionist, it’s true, but now I realise I was a fool. No amount of control makes the hurt better, it’s who you share it with that counts. So, if you want to end my career, go ahead and do it. I won’t object. I just ask you, no I beg you, not to drag Bucky down with me. He’s all I care about now.” Steve took hold of Bucky’s hand, gently stroking it with his thumb.

“Well, isn’t that just the cutesiest speech? It’s lucky I’ve got a heart too. Don’t worry; I’m not interested in your precious little Bucky. He can go work for that dusty old book-shelver Erskine if he wants to. He’ll be out of my department and that’s all I really care about…

…but YOU on the other hand…”

“Will be receiving a promotion” yapped the voice of a short stocky man in an immaculate steel-grey three piece suit and amber wrap-around sunglasses who power-walked his way into the office, followed hastily by Nat, holding a clipboard and looking altogether perkier than Steve had ever seen her in his life. 

The man strode right up to Steve and smartly shook his hand “Tony Stark” he announced concisely “You said you wanted to shake my hand, Mr Rogers? Well it’s my singular pleasure to oblige you. You do absolutely sterling work here; first class. That Weissembaum claim? A thing of genius!”

“And you must be Mr Barnes. I’m very happy to meet you too” Bucky just looked bewildered as his hand was efficiently pumped, and Steve wasn’t too far behind. Tony Stark both moved and thought at tremendous speed. It wasn’t more than a half a second before he was standing in front of a stunned-looking Thor. “You, sir, are fired. Report to Human Resources immediately to receive your statutory redundancy payment”

“But you can’t do that” boomed Thor

“I think you’ll find I can, Mr Odinson. We have a recording of everything you’ve just said.”

“But that’s against company rules”

“I find that amusing” said Tony evenly “From a man who reads through other people’s confidential files and then discloses their contents in an attempt to shame and blackmail them. Now, get the hell out of my sight, you hideous Norse homophobe”

Thor turned on his heel and attempted to thunder out, but his domineering façade rapidly dissolved as he stumbled blindly down the corridor.

“Miss Romanov, I need to answer the call of nature right now. The gentleman’s restrooms are eleven cubicles to the right, correct?” 

Nat nodded curtly. 

“Excellent. You have exactly four minutes with your friends. Then I’ll meet you at elevator sixteen. We need to speak to finance about redundancy pay-out calculations. They’ve been fourteen point four percent more generous than the global average. This requires immediate correction.” For a moment, he flashed a knowing smile at Steve, and winked. 

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.

“Phew” gasped Steve “He’s certainly on the ball with everything”

“Oh, nothing escapes his attention” Nat replied “I’d noticed something awry with the confidential personnel files several months back. We monitored them, and traced it all back to a certain individual”

“So, you knew Thor’s plan all along?”

“Not exactly” Nat admitted “But when I worked out it had something to do with my friend, “Stevie”… (she grinned at Bucky, who coloured and smiled back shyly) …I upped my vigilance, letting things play out until we had the opportunity to gather hard evidence. The “anonymous” allegations of impropriety weren’t very hard to trace. From there, all I needed to do was wait for Thor to expose himself, if you’ll pardon the phrase.”

Steve smacked himself on the forehead

“The IT technicians! There never really WAS anything wrong with our PC network was there?” 

“Couldn’t possibly comment” huffed Nat in mock haughtiness “But I’d strongly advise you not to badmouth Mr Stark in here any time soon!”

“Or ever” Bucky chimed in

“Wise move, kiddo” winked Nat, affectionately mussing up Bucky’s floppy mop. “Anyway, my four minutes are up. Wish me luck, guys!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

Bucky’s face was practically pressed against the plate glass window, fascinated by the far off light-house on the jagged reef peninsular beyond their stretch of the beach. Steve laid down his book and looked up at his boyfriend. He could sympathise; there was something near-hypnotic about the rhythm of its sweep; darkness for twelve seconds and then three dazzling shafts of white light in rapid succession. 

A local fisherman had told them that every lighthouse has its own illuminated “signature”, to distinguish it from others and help skippers identify coastlines more easily at night. Of course that technology was dated compared to the sophisticated radar systems now installed on even the smallest fishing-smack, but there was always the possibility of a system failure, and so the lighthouses continued to flash out their fitful signatures into the steadily darkening skies.

“I wonder how many ships it’s saved over the years?” asked Bucky, as he snuggled into Steve on the couch

“That’s like asking how many car accidents don’t happen, or how many homes don’t burn down” Steve replied “You can try to predict really really bad things, and you can try to predict really really good things, but most of the things that happen we ignore because they just run smoothly, like ships sailing safely past a lighthouse.”

Steve pondered that for a moment, as he combed his hand through Bucky’s hair. “So much could have gone wrong”, he thought to himself. He was conscious of how close to the rocks he had sailed, but here he was, all warm and cosy in the cottage Dr Erskine inherited from his uncle half a lifetime ago, enfolding a safe embrace around his wonderful boyfriend.

Once Steve had assumed Thor’s position, carefully removing all trace of the Norwegian’s unwholesome reputation, Bucky had gratefully accepted Nat’s offer to work with the good doctor. Abraham Erskine was the polar opposite of Thor Odinson in terms of line management style. He treated his new assistant with the gentlest of kid gloves, and nurtured Bucky’s burgeoning interest in database thesauri and taxonomies which, given his prodigious analytical skills, he took to like a duck to water. 

The fortieth floor penthouse library was the most envied space in the whole of Stark Tower, boasting a spectacular view of London’s skyline. Occasionally, Bucky would glance away from his shelving and pause in wonder at it. All his life he’d looked inwardly, casting a cold critical eye over his own apparent shortcomings. Now, for the first time in his life, he could look out to a promising future; a bright sunlit future filled with precious memories of Steve’s love and of their first faltering steps along the path of a wonderful new life together. 

Steve was thrilled to see that Bucky wasted no time in capturing those memories. Before he revealed Dr Erskine’s kind offer for them to stay in his beach-front cottage for the month, he’d whetted Bucky’s appetite with a little gift, which sent his boyfriend into squeals of delight: a digital camera. Day after day of their holiday, Steve fondly watched his boyfriend snap picture after picture to store away and treasure in his memory. 

Even though everything was electronic nowadays, Steve had bought a selection of traditional picture frames so that Bucky could choose to print out, look back and hold on to something real. Finally, he’d have the opportunity to accumulate that precious treasure trove of memories he’d so badly missed out on in his past life. Steve didn’t even mind where Bucky deposited his forest of filled frames on that oh-so-perfect minimalist furniture in their shared loft apartment.

They were both healing together. On more than one occasion, Bucky had tentatively asked Steve about his own past, but Steve hadn’t yet felt the need to exorcise his own particular ghosts in quite the same way. Those scars were old and probably past the point of further remedy. Besides, they stung far less in the company of this adorable, sweet, kissable man who had tenderly charmed his way into Steve’s heart.

“How did I ever get to be so lucky, Stevie?” Bucky asked, sleepily “I didn’t know what happiness even was until you came along.”

“That makes two of us, then” Steve replied “Because my happiness wasn’t even real happiness before we met. I was a miserly pompous ass until you showed me the error of my ways”

Bucky giggled “I don’t mind. As long as you’re generous with your time, you can keep your money”

“Money’s just a bunch of paper” sniffed Steve. Bucky looked up at him incredulously “Yeah, I guess you don’t believe me when I say that, but honestly, what have I been saving it up for all these years? There’s no pockets in shrouds!”

“Don’t talk like that” murmured Bucky, his heart on his sleeve as always

“I’m sorry, Baby. I shouldn’t have used that turn of phrase. And we’ve got generations of kids and grandkids to look forward to before then.”

Bucky shot him a quizzical look. Steve grinned, unable to contain his enthusiasm a moment longer “We got the adoption papers in the post last week. I was…waiting for the right moment to tell you about them”

Bucky’s face lit up like a million Christmas mornings had arrived for him all at once. Steve didn’t think it was conceivable for him to love Bucky any more intensely, until he saw that look of love on his boyfriend’s face; the love of this wonderful man whose dreams he was helping to make come true. He could only guess at what Bucky’s reaction would be to the contents of the small box he had carefully concealed in his suit jacket pocket, all ready for tomorrow evening’s candle-lit dinner. 

But, as a first-class actuary, he comfortably predicted really, REALLY good things.

 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's the end of "Predictions" guys. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Steve and Bucky will return in part 2 of the Stark Tower trilogy: "Call it even"


End file.
